The super-heated air bathed the outside of the drop pod in an ominous red glow as Wyatt hurtled towards near certain doom. Through the narrow window, he could see Elysium City in the distance, the shining spires climbing toward the heavens. The pod shuddered as it dropped lower in the atmosphere and mountains carpeted in impenetrable forests slowly came into view.
“I really hope I’m not going insane,” he muttered to himself, still unsure if the voice in his head was real or not. Maybe he’d gone crazy after being sentenced to take part in the Dissident Trials, and the disembodied voice speaking to him was a symptom of his descent into madness. Or maybe it had something to do with the nanites he’d infused himself with before being arrested. He’d never had the chance to test them.
I am most assuredly real, Lars said directly into Wyatt’s mind. And by heeding my sage advice, you have given yourself a decisive advantage over the other contestants.
The forest canopy rushed up to meet the drop pod and Wyatt braced himself for impact. With the speed of his descent, it wasn’t going to be a gentle landing. At the last moment, he glimpsed a collection of burning huts and then the pod slammed into the ground, hurling him against the padded sides. After a second, the door blew off and smoke-filled air rushed inside.
Wyatt coughed and staggered out of the pod directly into a raging battle. Enormous green humanoids with tusks protruding from their mouths and beady, hate-filled eyes rampaged through the village. The hulking creatures wielded primitive clubs, and nearby, several were chasing a screaming young woman.
As he watched, one of the humanoids grabbed the woman and lifted her above its head. The creature unhinged its jaws and dropped her into its yawning mouth. The woman’s legs kicked feebly as the creature gulped her down, its stomach distending until it almost dragged on the ground. Through the swollen belly skin, Wyatt could make out the outline of the woman’s hands as she desperately tried to claw her way out.
Wyatt blinked, unbelieving at what he’d just witnessed. “What the hell is that thing?”
It appears to be an orc, Lars replied. I would suggest a swift retreat to avoid meeting a similar fate.
“An orc?” he repeated, in shock. “What is a mythical creature doing here?”
While he’d stood there stunned, the orc had turned and fixated its piglike eyes on him. The creature began to waddle in his direction. But it could barely move as its distended stomach dragged along the ground.
Before he could retreat, the orc let out an ear-splitting squeal that made him clamp his hands over his ears. The other nearby orcs snapped their heads in his direction and roared as they spotted him. As one, they rushed toward him, their jaws cracking open in anticipation of a meal.
But Wyatt wasn’t about to suffer the same fate as the woman who’d just been eaten alive. He spun on his heel and dashed away. The roar of engines above made him instinctively hurl himself forward, and another drop pod slammed into the group of orcs pursuing him. The hulking humanoids disappeared into a gout of flames and smoke.
From inside the freshly arrived pod, an older man staggered out and looked around wildly. His eyes fixated on Wyatt, and he raised his fists. “You’re not going to kill me, you bastard.” The man charged at Wyatt, his arms swinging like windmills.
Wyatt easily brushed the man’s attack aside, then blocked a clumsy kick. He didn’t let his mind linger on his sudden martial arts prowess. “This isn’t a deathmatch!” he shouted. “We don’t have to kill each other.”
“Do you think I’m an idiot?” The man swung another lazy haymaker at him but stumbled as Wyatt side stepped the blow.
Wyatt swept the man’s feet, sending him tumbling to the ground. “Would you stop trying to fight me and listen for a second?”
From the ground, the older man cringed and held up his hands. “Wait! I have kids. Please don’t kill me.”
“I’m not going to hurt you…” Wyatt trailed off as two orcs emerged from the smoke and fell upon the prone man like hyenas attacking an injured wildebeest.
The orcs grabbed the older man’s legs and began to yank him back and forth as his screams grew shriller. The larger creature won out and tore its prey away from the smaller one. It then unhinged its jaws and dropped the man into its gaping maw.
I must insist that you retreat immediately, Lars repeated in his mind. Otherwise, you are at risk of a fatal encounter.
Wyatt didn’t have to be told a third time, and he sprinted towards the forest. He didn’t know what dwelled among the trees, but it had to be better than this nightmarish village. He pumped his arms as he ran, and his long strides ate up the distance. A drop pod slamming into the pathway in front of him made him stumble to a stop. The door of the craft burst off, and a woman flopped out onto the ground.
Wyatt stopped to inspect the injured woman; she was probably in her early twenties, had sharp features, high cheekbones, and brutally straight black hair. Then he glanced back to see a pair of orcs heading in their direction. He couldn’t leave her to just be devoured.
This is not an optimal use of your time, Lars said. I must insist you continue your withdrawal.
“I can’t leave her to be eaten,” Wyatt said under his breath. He glanced down at the young woman one last time and then planted himself between her and the orcs. Without even thinking, he fell into a fighting position, his hands curling up into fists.
I really hope the training I selected worked.
The first orc reached him and swung its club in a wide arc. Ducking under the weapon, he slammed his fist up into the creature’s chin. Its head snapped back, and he pivoted to swing his leg around in a punishing follow-up kick. He felt the creature’s face deform around his foot and spittle flew out of the orc’s mouth as it was hurled to the side.
The orc tumbled to the ground and rolled for a few paces before it came to rest against the side of a hut. When it didn’t stir, Wyatt turned to face his other attacker. The creature glanced down at its fallen companion and then squealed with rage. The bloodcurdling cry was taken up by dozens and then hundreds of other voices from around the village.
Wyatt didn’t have to be a genius to know he wasn’t going to win against a horde of creatures with his bare hands. His foot snapped out and slammed into the orc’s stomach. When the creature dropped to its knees, wheezing loudly, he turned and raced back toward the fallen woman.
He reached down to gather her up, only to have her fist crash into his face. The combination of surprise and force sent him reeling back, and through the stars dancing in his vision, he watched the woman rise to her feet.
She fell into a practiced fighting position, but swayed slightly as she glared at him. Blood trickled down her forehead, and she favoured one of her legs. “I’m not going to die here. Do you understand me?”
Wyatt nodded. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.
“Don’t lie to me. Everyone here wants me dead.”
“Listen, does this look like a deathmatch to you?” he gestured at the orc struggling to its feet behind him. “This is something different, and if you want to survive, we have to work together.”
Before she could respond, her eyes rolled up into her head and she collapsed to the ground. Wyatt rushed forward—still wary of another surprise attack—but when none came, he reached down to pick her up.
I am most disappointed in your tactical decisions, Lars sighed. Perhaps I should find another human who will heed my advice.
“I’m not leaving anyone to die here,” he said. “Not if I can help it.”
Wyatt grunted as he lifted the woman and then turned towards the forest again. After adjusting her on his shoulder, he broke into an awkward run. As he staggered toward the tree line, he listened for any sound of pursuit. But the orc he’d been fighting must have gone off to seek easier prey, since it should have easily been able to catch up to him.
When he finally reached the forest, he barely slowed and crashed into the dense underbrush. He kept running until the sounds of the battle faded and the acrid scent of smoke no longer filled his nostrils. Finally, when he’d reached a clearing with a burbling stream, he lurched to a stop.
With careful motions, he laid the woman down in the tall grass and collapsed beside her. He used his sleeve to wipe the sweat from his brow as he stared up into the sky. The sun was barely a pinprick of light, and Jupiter loomed large on the horizon.
“Why didn’t you kill me?” the woman asked in a reedy voice. She propped herself up on her elbows and looked over at him. “If you did, you’d have received a bonus.”
“Because this isn’t a deathmatch,” he replied, wearily. While it might have been a mistake to save the woman, he wouldn’t have been able to live with himself if he left her to be devoured by the orcs. Not after he’d condemned so many other innocents to death.
Does that mean you have come to trust my information? Lars asked.
“Shut up, Lars,” he replied. When the woman gave him a strange look, he frowned. “It’s a long story.”
“I’m sure,” she replied. “No offense, but I’m going to leave you and your insane ramblings before you change your mind and try to kill me.”
“Do whatever you want,” he replied. “But I think we should stick together.”
“Like an alliance?” She chewed on her lower lip. “Those never work in deathmatches. There can only be one winner in the Dissident Trials, and I plan to get back to my little brother in one piece.”
“Fine,” he gestured at the forest. “Good luck out there on your own.”
As he watched her stand up, deafening music began to blare in his mind and a screen appeared in his vision.
Welcome contestants to the 100th Annual Dissident Trials!
The games have a long and glorious history of reconditioning corporate undesirables, and every year one winner is deemed worthy to re-enter society. For the 100th anniversary, the show runners have decided to show mercy upon those lucky enough to find themselves in the game. Instead of the usual deathmatch format, this year will be a brand new, exciting survival game! Contestants will face 13 different levels before finally ascending the spire to claim victory. Any who survives until the end will be granted a pardon and a generous pension by the Outer Sol Conglomerate.
Now remember, the worlds of the Terran League will be watching, and the Dissident Trials is a family friendly event. Anyone engaging in any behaviour not acceptable for general audiences will be immediately eliminated. This includes, but is not limited to, sexual harassment, cannibalism, torture, and disparaging our glorious corporation, Outer Sol Conglomerate (OSC). While you are free to administer justice to your fellow dissidents, there will be no bonuses granted for any player kills.
Welcome to the first level — Stone Age Valley. Remember, the worlds are watching you, contestant. Everyone is rooting for your successful reconditioning!
The moment the screen disappeared, another emerged to take its place.
Wyatt Ashford
Survivalist, Level 1
Strength
1
Dexterity
1
Stamina
1
Intelligence
1
Durability
1
Resistance
1
Special Bonuses
None
Titles
None
Skills
Outdoors Survival
Rank 1
Hand-to-Hand Combat
Rank 1
Melee Weapons
Rank 1
Missile Weapons
Rank 1
Gun Powder Weapons
Rank 1
Ancient Crafting
Rank 1
Medieval Crafting
Rank 1
Pre-Modern Crafting
Rank 1
The Survivalist class didn’t excel at any combat skills—it was pretty much the jack of all trades—which was why virtually no one ever took it in the Dissident Trials. In the past, all that mattered was killing everyone else as quickly as possible.
“Holy shit,” Wyatt whispered to himself. “You are real, Lars.” As soon as he spoke the words, he clamped his mouth shut. If the voice in his head wasn’t a figment of his stressed mind, then it definitely shouldn’t be there. And by acknowledging its presence out loud, he was putting himself in grave danger.
Do not worry overly much about being monitored, Lars said in an emotionless tone. I have the ability to disrupt the AI’s feed when you are conversing with me. However, I cannot do anything if a real person is observing you. Thus, if you find yourself in an exciting battle or engaging in anything else which make be captured for a highlight reel, I recommend ignoring my presence.
“Who are you?” Wyatt whispered under his breath. Most likely, Lars was an AI, but he had no idea how he’d hitched a ride with him into the Dissident Trials.
Should you survive this round, Lars continued, then your benefactor shall contact you.
Wyatt turned his attention back to the woman who was sitting near the stream and staring off into the distance. He cautiously approached and sat down nearby—but still out of range in case she tried to hit him again. “Are you alright?”
“I’m totally screwed,” she said, tossing a stone into the burbling water. “Totally and utterly screwed.”
“What makes you say that?”
She laughed and shook her head. “I took the Solar Marine class.”
Wyatt rubbed a hand through his hair and grimaced. “I can see how that would be a problem in a stone age world.”
“Sorry I hit you.” She tossed another rock into the water. “How did you know it wasn’t a deathmatch?”
He shrugged, not willing to tell her about Lars yet. “I just had a hunch. It looks like it worked out for me.”
“What class are you?”
“I’m a survivalist,” he replied. “Which should do pretty well here.”
“You must either be insane or a genius to take that class,” she said. “No survivalist has ever gotten past the first round before. But in this world, you’re practically a god.”
“Surely, you must have some skills you can use here,” Wyatt insisted. “What can a solar marine do?”
The woman laughed harshly. “I have heavy weapons, energy weapons, powered armour, damage resistance, mech piloting, hand-to-hand combat, daggers, and advanced flight.”
“Well, at least you can throw a mean right hook and have some damage resistance.” The memory of her punch made him rub his jaw. Then he leaned towards her and thrust out his hand. “My name is Wyatt.”
She extended her hand hesitantly before taking his in a firm grip. “I’m Saeko.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Saeko.” He turned when he heard a howl coming from the forest. “Why don’t we find a place to shelter until we figure this place out?”
“You want to go with me?” she asked, raising one eyebrow. “Even after I hit you?”
He shrugged in reply. “We’ll probably do better together, and since it’s not a deathmatch, I don’t think you’re going to try to murder me in my sleep.”
“I’d like that.” She pushed her black hair over her ear and gave him a thin smile. “This isn’t what I expected from the Dissident Trials. I thought everyone would be trying to kill me.”
“It’s not what I expected either.” His thoughts turned back to the orcs in the village. “Let’s find somewhere safer, and then we can figure this place out.” When she nodded, he set a course deeper into the forest. He didn’t know what they’d encounter among the shadowy trees, but almost anything would be better than the hordes of orcs behind them.